Quack Experimental Fanfiction Excel Saga RIP
by Lilithisbitter
Summary: Nabeshin enslaves fanfic writers in order to create a season two for Excel Saga. Meanwhile, Excel finds herself engaged to the Begonia Bridesmaid, AKA Doormat, and wielding the legendary chainsaw of Diablo. Lord help us all.
1. Episode One

Author's Note: Excel Saga parody for all the family, if your family was basically the template for Jerry Springer… no, really. 

Sailor Lilith-chan Presents:  
Quack Experimental Fanfiction Excel Saga RIP

Episode One: Creating a New Season One Staple at a Time

Two men met in a dark studio. They were shadowy figures, only one sported a rather magnificent afro that moved with the wind. This was odd, because the air conditioner was off.

"How do you do that?" the man without the afro, who was better known as the author of the manga, Rikdo Koshi, said. His own shadow was dripping huge drops of sweat which were already starting to fill the studio.

The man with the afro was still and unaffected by the heat of the studio.

He was calm.

He was cool.

He also happened to have the unique ability to generate his own headwind.

Cool as ever, he reached into his pocket and whipped out a flashlight illuminating his face as he flicked it on. He grinned. "What, are you dense? Are you retarded or something? Who the hell do you think I am? I'm the goddamned Nabeshin."

The mysterious ca-ching sound filled the dark studio. "What the hell was that?" Rikdo demanded. If one thing bugged him, it was mysterious ca-chings in darkened studios.

"One million yen being shipped to one Frank Miller's bank account," Nabeshin said, "Mind you, that's about eight thousand, three hundred, eighty-two dollars and twenty-three cents." He paused and smiled for an invisible camera. "That's in American dollars. Want to know how much it is in Euros?"

"Hold on!" Rikdo said, "You dragged me away from my writing by a horde of Excel clones all chanting "For the revolution, bitch!" I was summarily beaten about the buttocks by said clones and thrown into a limo, not that I didn't mind. But why have you brought me here? Why? Why?" He threw his hands into the air and fell down into the puddle of his own sweat for one drawn out, "Whhhhhhy?" which went on for several minutes.

A poor immigrant worker sloshed through the sizeable puddle of sweat as he walked up to Rikdo. Shaking the manga author's hand, the man blubbered, "Pedro admires the manga author with sizable lung capacity. He shakes Mr. Rikdo's hand as his tears flow like waterfalls."

The pool of sweat as well as Pedro's tears, which flowed like Niagara Falls, quickly filled up the room. Nabeshin was now in a boat shaped like a duck. "Rikdo… we had plans to make a season two of Excel Saga!"

"What?" Rikdo said, trying to keep afloat in the salty water that filled the studio. "You mean you will actually use the ideas you never took from the manga, you directorial edited for keeping this segment under a suitable rating which we sorta blew in episode twenty-six?"

Nabeshin grinned again. "The word is HAD, Rikdo. We blew most of our budget on Puni Puni Poemy and I blew the rest on a sandwich."

"A sandwich?"

Strangely enough, though Rikdo was close to drowning in his own sweat and immigrant worker tears, he was both relieved and pissed off. Nabeshin shrugged. "It was a very good sandwich," he said.

"But still… it means you can't change what your anime mangled. My poor manga," Rikdo raged. At that moment, Pedro gave Rikdo a rib-crunching hug. Rikdo held back a whimper of pain.

Nabeshin winked at the seemingly nonexistent camera. "Oh, we weren't planning on making the anime more compliant with the manga at all."

"You weren't?" Rikdo's voice grew weak from Pedro's hug and the water that was a mixture of sweat and tears and happened to be filling his lungs.

"Indeed," Nabeshin said, "So Hyatt came up with an idea." He pulled a limp Hyatt out of the water and slapped her back alive.

Rikdo's mind boggled. "She's fictional," he sputtered. He pointed to the clinging Pedro. "He's fictional too… there is no way they can be here."

"Hail Nabeshin!" the ghostly pale Hyatt gasped before coughing her life out into the water.

How ironic, Rikdo thought to himself as Hyatt's blood added to what would be his doom, blood, sweat, and tears.

Then the primitive monkey brain took over his thoughts and sounded something like Ack, I'm drowning, save me, save me…!

Which is what his mouth sputtered out around the rising tiding of ick!

Nabeshin nodded. "I will help you if you allow me to enslave a random fanfic author and staple their feet to the ground."

Rikdo thought the options over and nodded as Nabeshin pulled him into the duck-shaped boat. "In fact," Nabeshin said, pulling out a scroll of paper, "I have a contract for you to sign."

ooo

I, Koshi Rikdo, will give Nabeshin the authority to staple a fanfic author's feet to the floor and turn Excel Saga Season Two into a fanfic that pokes fun at other fanfics.

-Rikdo (Stamp goes here)

ooo

The author sobbed and gasped in pain as Nabeshin jammed in the last staple. "Oh dear god," it sobbed, "Did you have to staple my feet to the floor?"

Nabeshin's afro quivered with power and spat out the contract Rikdo had signed in the previous scene. "I'm obligated to do so by contract."

The author quivered.

"Start writing, slave!"

Straining with the pain of the staples in its feet, the author began to type.

ooo

ExcelwaSGREDUCatingfroodeargodthepainithurtsithurtsmommmeeee!

ooo

Nabeshin kicked the fanfic writer in the head. "Is that all you got?"

"My feet hurt," the author blubbered, "And I have to go to the bathroom."

The Great Director Nabeshin thought about it. "Keep writing," he said, "We'll catheterize you later."

ooo

Excel was graduating college in an attempt to rip off the first episode where she graduated from high school.

"Gee, Hat-chan," she bubbled to her currently dead friend, "I didn't realize that the author who Nabeshin enslave and stapled its feet to the floor was such a piss poor writer."

Hyatt managed to come back to life and grin past blood-stained teeth. "Isn't it wonderful how we have a job even in times such as these?"

"I could think of nothing better!" Excel chirped, sparkling, the radiant stuff life is made of. (Annoying author's note that shouldn't be there: You really shouldn't drink Gatorade since its made from the sweat of athletes. Have you seen the commericals?) "How fortunate we have graduated from college."

"Yes," Hyatt nodded weakly despite the blood that was starting to drip from her nose. "How fortunate we are."

Excel pumped her fist in the air and gave a victory sign. She skipped and twirled around Hyatt, not at all caring that Hyatt was about five seconds from keeling over dead again. "Ahhhhh…" she said and launched into rapid speak, "How wonderful it is that Excel got out of college even though she had to offer her various offices to the professorial staff regardless of whether or not they were male or female or tentacle beast as she worked nights at the tofu shop where her bastard of a boss wouldn't give her tofu so she had to lick the tile in hopes that a little bit of food got through, but she has gotten a degree… a shiny new degree!"

Despite being in a growing pool of her own blood, Hyatt manage to gurgle something that might have been, "Good work, Ma'am." It might have also been, "Help, help, I'm trapped in a pool of my own blood."

Excel's eyes widened so large that she might have had a case of the girly-eyed measles. "Oh, Hat-chan! Excel is so happy."

And with that she twirled Hyatt around by her ankles, splashing the college students and professors around them with a ton of blood.

ooo

Nabeshin inspected the typed words on the computer screen. "Bloody and over the top," he said. "I like it. Type more!"

"I'm in pain," the author wept, gangrene already starting to take hold in its feet, although it didn't know it at the time.

The author promptly got bitchslapped by Nabeshin's afro. "Keep writing!"

ooo

Excel danced through the street, merrily dragging the corpse of Hyatt behind her in a trail of blood and teeth. Neither of these things mattered to Excel because animation errors always returned Hyatt to normal. "Acro-ss-u! Ripping off episode one! Proudly going where others have before and ripping off what is rightfully someone else's. Harmon-i-a! Harm-"

She never noticed the bus rolling toward her.

ooo

SMACK!

The author wailed and clutched its shattered jawbone as Nabeshin put his mallet back in his afro. "What was that?"

The author sobbed and weakly typed out, "What you wanted… don't hurt me!"

Nabeshin walloped the author again. "Silence. And delete that last line from the fic! Just like that author's note you put in earlier, it has no place in this work."

Whimpering as well as a shattered mandible would allow, the author began typing again.

ooo

Excel blinked. Thankfully, due to luck, she was able to escape by falling at the right moment. "Oh, praise Il Palazzo-sama for high buses." She poked the slightly damage corpse of Hyatt. "That would really be bad, huh? A repeat of episode one."

Then there was a whistling sound. Excel looked around in confusion. "Huh, Excel hears a whistling sound…"

The sound grew louder.

"And it seems to be coming from above me!"

Excel looked up to see a flaming piece of debris from the Mir space station falling toward her… to be more exact, it was a toilet seat from the space station Mir.

"Somehow," Excel said aloud, staring at the fiery ball of toilet seat doom, "This seems rather ripped off."

The toilet seat crashed into her and killed Excel in a fiery ball of doom.

The End

ooo

"Of course it's a rip off," Nabeshin said to the author. "You got the idea from Dead Like Me. And you can't end a story like that." He balled up his fists in righteous anger. "You can't say 'and then she died, the end'. It's very wrong and you should rewrite it! Rewrite it!"

But the author was slumped over the keyboard. After a quick inspection, Nabeshin realized that not only was the author slumped over the keyboard… the author was slumped lifelessly over the keyboard, having choked on its on blood.

"Ah, you're dead," he said and thought over it for a few minutes.

Would the fanfic go on?

Nabeshin came to a grand conclusion.

"Oh, well," he said, "Fanfic writers are a dime a dozen."

And so the torture continued.

ooo

Creating a New Season One Staple at a Time

Today's Experiment… FAILED

ooo

Author's Notes: So this has been the first chapter of Excel Saga RIP. The next chapter will contain chewy nougat and plot. You like plot… don't you?


	2. Episode Two

Episode Two: Amazing Interlude of Doom and the Author's Note that Won't Shut Up!

Nabeshin deposited another dime into the nearest fanfic writer vending machine and extracted another writer neatly wrapped in cellophane. The writer's fingertips were bloody from trying to scratch its way out of its prison. 

The great director frowned. No, no, this wouldn't do at all. He used his afro to toss the defective author out the window into the nearest river where it promptly drowned. Nabeshin deposited another dime into the machine and marveled at that fact that he could pull dimes out of thin air and why they were dimes and not yen.

And then promptly dismissed it. After all, he was the GTW after all.

This time three authors neatly wrapped in the same cellophane popped out. They all had the same wide eyed, vapid expression on their nearly identical faces. Nabeshin had heard about these kinds of authors. The kind that were less than a dime a dozen. Suethors.

Nabeshin carefully unwrapped the trio who promptly sparkled. "And who might you be?" he asked.

The Suethors sprang into action. The Suethor in blue pulled out a boombox, the Suethor in red pulled out a set of bongo drums, and the Suethor in yellow pulled out a microphone. The boombox was switched on and the bongos were beat as the one with the microphone howled and wailed. Nabeshin pulled his fro over his ears. The Suethors didn't notice.

"That's some act," he said when they finished. Maybe he would have to use the stapler on their lips as well. "What are your names?"

"Mary Sue!" the first said and struck a macho pose.

"Jenny Sue!" the second said and did a twirl before falling on her butt.

"Bobby Sue," said the Suethor in yellow in a surprisingly masculine voice, "They kidnapped me and now the bitches want me to be one of them. Please help."

Nabeshin watched as Bobby Sue struggled to say more. Mary Sue (or was it Jenny Sue?) pulled out a mallet and beat poor Bobby Sue to within an inch of death. Silence like an unwanted author's note fell over the room.

(Author's Note: I'm very wanted, you should know.)

"Hell no, you ain't," Nabeshin said, pointing at the author's note which hung in the air, bloated with ego. "This is my story and I say no author's notes popping up in middle."

There was more sparkling in the air around the author's notes. (Author's notes: I have rights too, you know.)

"Fuck off, voice in the sky!" Nabeshin said, finger pointing at the author note, perfectly described pulsing forehead vein… pulsing with his irritation. "You have no place in this world."

(Author's Note: Do too. :P)

The self-insert and god-extraordinaire sat and thought as the two Sues stared blankly into space. Jenny Sue giggled and Mary Sue (Or was that Jenny Sue and Mary Sue was doing the giggling?) ate the still twitching body of Bobby Sue in a strange allegory that stated that yes, fanfic authors do devour their own. 

Nabeshin's fro quivered with latent power as tiny Nabeshins leapt from its nappy depths and opened. The author's note quivered and oozed pure ego and plot device. "Wow," the severed head of Bobby Sue croaked out before Jenny and Mary chewed it up, "It's like some sort of Mexican Standoff." 

The great director and shameless self-insertion turned toward the cannibalistic fans. "That's some kinda messed up."

(Author's Note: Don't we know it?)

Nabeshin whirled around and pointed at the author's note. "And you," he said, pointing with both hand and 'fro, "Nabeshin says shut up!"

(Author's Note: But… but…)

"But… nothing… shut up!"

The author's note sputtered. (If you tell me that one more time, I'll make the universe explode.)

Nabeshin smiled. It was a cruel smile that he bought at half off. "Try me. Shut… up."

The universe exploded in a rain of blood, guts, and the pulverized bits of Nabeshin's 'fro.

The End

ooo

Commercial break time! 

Based on the hit OAV Puni Puni Poemi, comes the television series that is full of more underage lesbians, tentacles, 35 percent more subtle shading, and blatant disregard for common sense and good taste.

Get ready for Mafia Project Puni Puni Poemi 69: The Television Series: Lemon Saga!

Coming soon to FQX!

ooo

The Eternal Will of the Macrocosm paused in her viewing of canon. "Second chapter and the author's note blows up the universe." 

What remained of The Universe shook in reply.

If Will-chan had a foot, it would be tapping in annoyance. "We give the author's note too much power." It settled for tapping its fingers of its right hand against the palm of the other. "Power it shouldn't have."

The Universe idly scratched its cosmic equivalent of nuts. "I thought it kinda tingled."

"You're a sucker for punishment," Will-chan said thoughtfully. "I suppose I better reset you."

ooo

This time three authors neatly wrapped in the same cellophane popped out. They all had the same wide eyed, vapid expression on their nearly identical faces. Nabeshin had heard about these kinds of authors. The kind that were less than a dime a dozen. Suethors.

Nabeshin carefully unwrapped the trio who promptly sparkled. "And who might you be?" he asked.

The Suethors sprang into action. The Suethor in blue pulled out a boombox, the Suethor in red pulled out a set of bongo drums, and the Suethor in yellow pulled out a microphone. The boombox was switched on and the bongos were beat as the one with the microphone howled and wailed. Nabeshin pulled his fro over his ears. The Suethors didn't notice.

"That's some act," he said when they finished. Maybe he would have to use the stapler on their lips as well. "What are your names?"

"Mary Sue!" the first said and struck a macho pose.

"Jenny Sue!" the second said and did a twirl before falling on her butt.

"Bobby Sue," said the Suethor in yellow in a surprisingly masculine voice, "They kidnapped me and now the bitches want me to be one of them. Please help."

Mary Sue pulled out a gun and blew Bobby Sue's brains out in a shower of too gross for television. "And we're pleased to meet you."

Nabeshin checked his ears to see if they were bleeding (they were) and shook Mary Sue's hand as she sparkled. "I'm looking for fanfiction writers."

Mary Sue was promptly killed by Jenny Sue in a fit of rage. "I'm pleased as punch. My name is Jennifer Susan Emeraldina Bannafanarama Morningstar Moonbeam dear god why did my parents name me this and why are you still reading this you nitwits."

Nabeshin's fro dripped with sweat. "I'm looking for authors."

"Really?" Jenny Sue said, busy burying the corpses of Bobby and Mary. "I'm a writer."

The great director's hands drifted toward his stapler. "What do you think about writing fanfic?"

ooo

Amazing Interlude of Doom and the Author's Note that Won't Shut Up!

Today's Experiment: Results Pending

ooo

We lament the passing of the author's note. Nevertheless, it really was asking for it. Really. 


	3. Episode Three

Episode Three: Mary Crepe Suzette Part One

The doorbell rang.

He was brave.

He was bold.

He was Lord Il Palazzo, would be conquer of F City.

He couldn't open the door.

"Excel!"

No response.

"Excel!"

Nothing.

Il Palazzo weighed his options and pulled the ever present pit cord.

ooo

"And then Il Palazzo said 'Have a day off. Have a whole bunch of day offs'," Excel said stuffing her mouth full of the only thing she could find, the bathroom soaps from her last workplace. "My Lord Il Palazzo is the man," she said around a mouthful of bubbles. In fact, he's the man's man. He's the man the man's man wished he could so be."

"Oh Senior Excel," Hyatt chirped as she slowly and methodically chewed through a stack of loose leaf folders, "Maybe you were fired."

Excel paused to think, soap bubbles dripping out of her mouth and nose.

ooo

Now booting Excelsoft Bimbos ME.

Required Memory... None.

Common decency... Not found.

Moral Code... Virus Detected.

ooo

Hyatt wondered if poking Excel with a stick was worth the trouble of gushing blood out of every orifice like a stereotypical Ebola victim. "Senior Excel?" she said again "Have you considered the possibility that..." Hyatt lost that train of thought as a well-timed aneurysm went off in her brain.

In Hyatt's head, her train of thought jumped the tracks and slammed into the bridge of her subconscious. Excel drooled and Hyatt twitched every now and then as her neurons and morons and every kind of science related nonsense you could think of died.

A moment later with all the timing of a plot device, the pit door opened beneath Excel and the twitching Hyatt sending them into the murky waters of pit space.

"Ahahahaha," Excel laughed, coming to what little senses she had. "Lord Il Palazzo would never fire yours truly."

ooo

"Well did he?" Nabeshin asked Jenny Sue.

Jenny Sue paused in picking the bits of flesh off from around the staples in her feet. "ZOMG," she squealed, "He soooo would. OMG, that Excel bee-atch doesn't have what I have."

Nabeshin didn't regret asking, although he would a few seconds later. "What do you have?"

The Sueauthor ripped open her blouse. "Triple Z sized boobies."

The universe paused and did a double take as somehow all laws of time and space ceased to function. Jenny Sue smirked and rebuttoned her shirt with a "I told you so" expression on her vapid face.

ooo

Review from Anal Excel Fan

I once respected you. Now you're going for cheap body jokes like Garden of Eva.

ooo

Reply from Author

Garden of Eva had "mighty oak" jokes. Excel Saga RIP has "boobie cracks". Please do not confuse the two as this will cause you great pain in the nether region. LOL, cuz that's where your brain is at.

ooo

Reply from Anal Excel Fan

But that's my point. Excel Saga RIP is just Garden of Eva with more breasts and less penis. Why does anyone think that's funny?

ooo

"Good lord," Nabeshin said, picking up his jaw from the floor and crunching it back into place. "How do you find shirts that fit?"

If Jenny Sue could actually use her facial muscles, her face would have shifted to innocent. She couldn't and used the same vapid expression she had before. "Talent."

Nabeshin whipped out the staple gun once more. The Suethor's face looked more bovine than usual. "Staple time."

"Moo?"

ooo

Excel washed out of the pit door in a slurry of pit sludge. "Hail Il Palazzo-sama."

"Ahh, Excel and Hyatt," the master of screwing things up and blaming them on his only two employees said "Do you like the new and improved pit system?"

Hyatt drooled.

Excel paused a moment, looking down at the pit ominously shining at her like an idle plot device, twin rivers of sludge creeping out of her nostrils. "Pit system?"

"Indeed," Il Palazzo said, "My genius awoke me one night to tell me that I must have a more elaborate pit system in order to drop that no good excuse for a slattern into it whenever I needed." Excel looked like she wanted to jump Il Palazzo's bones while at the same time looking disappointed. She was talented.

The doorbell rang again, just as Hyatt sputtered back to life, neatly sponging the raw sewage off her with a single napkin. She was talented, Il Palazzo reflected, shifting to hide his growing interest. Very gifted, Excel also noted to herself, covering up an improbable erection and wondering when this had become a fetish anime. It was cold and Hyatt still couldn't buy a bra. Enough said.

The doorbell rang.

"Have they really been there that long?" Il Palazzo wondered aloud before rising dramatically to his feet. "Excel, Hyatt..."

"Hail Lord-" they started before Il Palazzo interrupted them.

"Open the door, my servants," he commanded them.

Excel beamed. "Oh, is Excel really back from her long vacation? By the way, when is the main plot line with the Begonia Bridesmaid and the PTA arc going to start? Oh, right, the door. Leave it to Excel, she'll open it lickety-split"

The door creaked open with the sound of someone farting...

ooo

Oh, come on, that's silly. Right sound effect.

ooo

Killjoy.

ooo

...ancient hinges creaking. "Oh," said Il Palazzo dropping all pretense of being lordly and getting his lordly behind off his lordly throne. He knew it was lordly since it came from Lord Mart. "My package just arrived."

Excel found herself embedded into the wall with the force of the door opening and all of her teeth driven back into her skull. Blood dripped down into her lungs. As Il Palazzo ooed and ahhed over his new package, Excel vomited, pissed herself, drowned in her own blood, puke, and spit.

She promptly died four hour later and Il Palazzo was still trying to translate the English instructions for his new toy. Too bad that the only speaker who could mildly speak English was dead...

...was obviously not dead, but dragging Hyatt over so all of the elite (snerk) agents of ACROSS (seriously how can I narrate with a straight face) could inspect it (gaze dumbly at it is more like it). The box was about the size of a breadbox, but much more larger which made the previous statement make no sense (this sentence is improbable).

Note from GTW: Disregard the parenthesizes. The person responsible for these will be beaten severely. Unless she likes it then she won't be beaten. Worship the 'fro.

Excel helpfully found the label and read off "Mary Crepe Suzette: The Incredible Edible Minion on a Budget". A smile crossed her face. "Oooh, extra feeding supplies."

Somewhere, Menchi sighed a breath of relief. Still there was no need to put away the bazooka, the hand grenades (how paws could operate hand grenades is really not important), and an elaborate gizmo that would slice Excel's head off so Menchi could feast on that vapid blonde's brains. That would show the bitch who was boss before the next reset.

Elsewhere in the headquarters of ACROSS, Excel pulled out the instructions that were written in English. For full humor effect, random English sentences were used in place of their "Japanese" counterparts being this fic is being written in English so uh, pretend this is in Japanese... um... kawaii no desu sugai... don't make me say stuff like that. Because... one it's lame and two I had no clue what I just said.

"(Rub marinade into lamb and shake it like a Polaroid Picture)," Excel read from the box, "Which means 'This side up'."

She carefully opened the size of a breadbox, but much more larger than a breadbox box to get hit in the face by the directions that had plagued Il Palazzo so much in the reset. As well as in the arm, legs, and belly. Blood squirted out of her like a ketchup packet. Excel tried everything she could to stop bleeding to death from Band-Aids to duct tape and failed. As the last ounce of strength left her body, she thought she saw Il Palazzo goosing the overly nubile contents of the box. "That's not in-character," she thought before she died and also, "I want to goose them too."

The episode carefully reset itself.

"(Put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up.) That means turn that bad boy on!" Excel concluded with the directions as Il Palazzo popped the double A batteries into the remote control.

"See," Excel called, "This is where the narration starts ignoring us."

The nubile contents of the box sprang to life. The creamy creation lay quivering like a flan waiting to be programmed. Il Palazzo pondered his choices of what cup size to make his very own Mary Crepe Suzette.

"(Spinning kicks make poor dance partners.)" Mary said, rubbing her still hairless head again Il Palazzo's groin as she had been programmed to do.

"What did you say?"

"(Watermelons are my number of hobbies.)"

"I can't understand you." Il Palazzo said and switched the controls to Japanese.

"Please pick guidelines. These can be chosen with a few clicks of the remote."

Il Palazzo looked at the controls. He had the choice of improbable to pinpricks for breast size. Smiling, he made the obvious choice of Hyatt's breasts with a creamy tone. He picked a caramel tone to her skin which made her cream colored breasts stand out like cream colored islands. "Now choose the hair color..."

He soon discovered he had a choice of black as licorice, yellow as butterscotch, red as cherry, dark are rum, and his personal favorite blue as cotton candy. He decided on all off them which ordinarily would look like a nightmare, but because she was a Mary Sue unit, they came out perfectly.

"So," he found himself saying, "What are your mission parameters?"

Mary Crepe Suzette's eyes flashed brown as chocolate and then green as mint. "My mission parameters are what... LORD IL PALAZZO ...has given me." Her eyes shifted over to as red as cinnamon even though cinnamon is technically brown, but cinnamon candy is red. With another shift, her hair shifted to a more eye-easy tangerine orange. "Please insert programming apparatus into slut A."

ooo

The fic abruptly shifted viewpoints to avoid an adults only rating. "You know," Hyatt quavered, dabbing at her constantly bleeding nose, "I thought that Lord Il Palazzo would be bigger."

Excel's jaw trembled with rage. She didn't know whether to kill Mary Crepe Suzette or make sweet sweet love to her as she ate her tasty corpse. Anyone that was described as having edible foods for body parts must be delicious. "You've had sex with a tentacle beast," she said, searching the fic for climb on points to spot where they had last been mentioned.

"Maybe the air is just cold," Hyatt murmured, spitting out several teeth. In the midst of the Sue's radiance, she was withering more than usual. Her chest had split open and the alien larva that she had been sheltering in there shivered as they chewed away at her internal organs.

"That's just bull," Excel muttered as she wondered what was the best letter to grab to make her way up the fic. All she needed was a good starting point. Any point.

Excel beamed. "That's it," she squealed and snagged the capital E at the beginning of this paragraph. Excel made her way up this fic, which when you think about it makes no sense, but in light of that, doesn't what she said earlier make sense.

"It does," Hyatt gurgled in response to the narration and the aliens inside her shivered with cold and fear of death. "Oh my," she murmured as blood trickled out of her nose, "Mary Crepe Suzette is so glorious. I think I should be-"

Hyatt died. The rest of the sentence was "Dying every few..."

"Words," Hyatt finished before dying again.

Thank you.

"No problem," Hyatt gurgled through a mouth of her own blood, which is silly since Hyatt's not a vampire. She might be, with all of that energy sucking.

What? Too far?

"Too far!" Il Palazzo shouted from off page at the same Excel scrambled over another line and cursed the fact that it took her so long to figure out she had been ignored.

""See," Excel called, from several paragraphs up, "This is where the narration starts ignoring us."

The fanfic shook and shuddered from back reference, fanfic looping, and blatant use of the copy paste button. From her high perch, Excel pissed herself. "Hey, stop the fic shaking."

She fell where she met up with the current trail of narration with a spine shattering crash. Excel's spine and skull neatly popped out of her mouth with a neat little pop for redundant sound effect. "Now I know this is a bad fanfic," Excel said to herself, "Lord Il Palazzo, save me!"

But Il Palazzo was enjoying the Mary Crepe Suzette's lovely marshallowy funbags.

"Looks like a two-parter, Ma'am," Hyatt murmured, coming around just as the chapter ended.

ooo

Mary Crepe Suzette Part One

Today's Experiment: In progress...


End file.
